The Playboy Erotica Writer

Glancing over at my alarm clock, I see that it is going to be another bang up day, considering I overslept by about five hours. 

“Shit,” I mutter to myself as I scrub my hands over my face. 

Every night I give myself the same pep talk. Wake up at 7AM, go to the gym, answer all my correspondence, then get to writing. And what actually happens; every day I snooze my way through my alarm until it's close to noon, pop open my laptop in my bed to see what new dirty pics and downright filthy messages moms across America send me, jack off in the shower, then head off to find some pussy. Or stay in and write, if the previous nights activates proved to be notable. Yes, writing what has been dubbed “mommy porn” has been profitable and exciting for a single guy like myself.
While falling out of bed, I notice my wallet lying on the floor, open, and the round indentation where my trustee Trojan lives, missing. Ahh, it’s coming back to me now.

Tatiana, the bar owners daughter. Last night she decided she needed a hand carrying up a case of wine from the basement. Ever the gentlemen, I of course volunteered, but when I got to the bottom step, she slammed me against the wall and pulled my dick out faster than I could protest.

Not that I protested too much. I'm not stupid.

Before I knew it, my cock was tickling her tonsils and that hot as hell gagging noise girls make when they get me past their uvula drove me insane. Between the dim light, too many shots, and the musky smell of sex in the dank basement, I was ready to shoot into her mouth right then and there. However, my slightly drunken state made the experience drag on far longer than I wanted.

Tatiana is a sweet girl, but she's a four at best. Overly skinny, no ass, small tits, eyes too big for her face. I shudder as the full picture comes into focus. The upside of banging anorexic chicks is they are usually pretty bendy. Taking full advantage of her small size I lifted her onto the empty crates, that were stacked in the corner, and fucked her with her thighs pressed against my stomach and her body jackknifed under me. I think her knees were digging into her eyes because she kept trying to open her legs, but I held them firmly in place so I couldn’t see her face.

Note to self, replace the condom and find a new bar to hang out at.

After taking a piss and grabbing some coffee it is time to see what my personal message inbox has in store for me today:

Jenna: Love you, keep writing…☺

Mark Cox:    Thank you!

Kelly:    You have a dirty mind. Hope to meet you one day. ;)

Mark Cox:    I’ll see you in my dreams darlin’. xoxxo

Liz:    OMG!!! Jst red ur stry u r amaz.

Mark Cox:    Thanx! Always good to hear from pretty ladies. x

SexGoddess:    Wanna video chat? 38/single/ D Cup/ Australia. Would love to show you my down under!

“No thanks, lady. Blocked!” I say to myself, sending her to blocked status so she can’t send me any more messages.

If this business has taught me anything, it is to not provoke the ones who want to see you face to face. I mean I am a good-looking guy, no one could argue with that, but I use my pen name for a reason. I was silly enough to use my real name for the first few stories I published on my blog last year, when I first started writing. I had women and horny college girls alike, showing up at my apartment, wanting to get a piece of the fantasy I created. I had to move and get a pen name for the phone calls and random visits to stop.

NO THANK YOU!

Scrolling through my messages, I come across my daily dose of Helen, one of my regulars. I have a few regulars, but Helen is by far the most needy.  Don’t get me wrong, the woman is awesome for my ego. She tells me what I like to hear, daily, and all she asks in return is  some role playing to satisfy the fantasy.  I can do that.  If she needs some much needed attention, I am more than happy to provide her the boost she needs to get through her obvious dry patch.


Helen:   Morning Mr. Cox, I dreamt of you again last night.

Mark:    Sorry I didn’t respond sooner, I just woke up.You were in my dreams as well, Helen. I sadly woke up to find you not really here.

Before I know it, she is messaging me back. Thank god for the app on my smartphone.

Helen:     Good afternoon, Mr. Cox. I am glad you slept well. (giggle)

Mark:    Thank you, sweetheart, for always looking out for my best interest. In fact, I do have an issue I need some help with. Are you busy at the moment?

Helen:     For you, I have time. What did you have in mind?

Mark:    Well, I woke up with this large pain in my groin, and I am afraid it just won’t go away. Perhaps you can rub it and make it better.

Helen:    I think I can. Give me five minutes. I will take my lunch break and go to my car where this conversation will be more…private. ;)

Mark:    Hurry back. I don’t think I can take it much longer. I may have to take care of the problem myself.

Helen:   NO! Don’t do that. I would be happy to help you scratch that itch. BRB.

While I am waiting for Helen to get back to me, I check my emails. Most of the messages are the same. Updates on reviews, notes from my editor, and fan mail.  The same thing that floods my inbox on a daily basis. If my next book is half as popular as the first, I may need to get an assistant to handle all this correspondence. A hot one perhaps.

Hummm. That would make for an interesting story.

I love being a writer. It allows me to be a different person every day. Create a world that I control and disappear from reality for a little while. My family thinks I am a lazy party boy. They have no idea how I make money, nor do they ask. Being a writer allows me a much more flexible lifestyle than people like my brother, “Lawrence the Lawyer”.

My whole life I heard my parents say, “Be more like Lawrence. Settle down like Lawrence. Find a nice girl like Lawrence.” It is so goddamned irritating. Fuck Lawrence. He has always been a pencil dick. Kissing mommy and daddy’s ass to prove he is, the good son.

Speaking of Lawrence, what do we have here? 

I'd recognize that email address anywhere. I remember laughing at Nicole, Lawrence’s wife, last Christmas when she sent me an eCard from her personal email address. After her and Lawrence had my niece Clair, she changed her email address to NicoleMilf.  Looks like my big brother is not keeping his woman satisfied. Perhaps I can do something about that. Just as I'm about to read Nicole’s email, Helen’s message pops up.

Hell! Let's make this quick.

Helen:        Sorry. I got tied up.

Mark:        Tied up you say? Sounds promising. Where are you now?

Helen:        In my car.

Mark:        Are the windows tinted? What are you wearing?

Helen:        Yes they are. Black skirt, pink blouse, black lace bra and panties.

Mark:         Good. Slide your hands up your skirt and remove those pesky panties first. Leave your skirt bunched up around your waist.

Helen:         Done.

Mark:         Good girl. Now slide your hands up your thighs until your fingers find your sweet spot. Imagine it is me rubbing you and sliding my fingers through your wet lips.

A few moments pass and I look over some of the reviews while I wait. I haven’t gotten much writing done in the last few weeks and my editor is on my case about seeing some more material before my target date. If I don’t start writing more and chatting less, I am going to miss my rapidly approaching deadline.

Helen:    Ummm, feels good. I am always wet for you.  I love it when you touch me. Your fingers are magical.

Magical. Seriously? Is this woman really rubbing one out in the parking lot where she works? Has she no worries of getting caught? For her sake I better make this quick. Besides I want to see what my sister-in-law Nicole needs from good ol’ Mark Cox.

Helen:    Oh, Mark. Your fingers inside of me are making me so hot.

Thank god.

Not going to lie, my dick is getting hard, but it has more to do with what I am going to read from Nicole, and less about Helen getting off in her Volvo.

Mark:    That’s it. Keep going. I can feel you; you’re so close. My cock is throbbing in my hand just thinking about you spread out in the front seat while I reach my hand into your blouse and pinch those perky pink nipples of yours. Ummm, I hope you are ready to cum because I can’t hold off much longer, baby.

Helen:    Oh god. That was amazing. I have never done that in my car before. As always you did not disappoint.

Mark:    You were pretty remarkable yourself. I have to go clean up now, but I wish you a very lovely day. TTYL8R ;)

Great. Now that that’s over, I log off before I see her response. Now where is that email? Ah, there it is. Let’s see what my brother’s wife is in need of.

From:        NicoleMilf

To:            Mark Cox

Subject:    Your many talents

Mr. Cox,

I have read your recent book and to say I was impressed would be an understatement. I am recently divorced and in need of some self-exploration. Your stories provided me with the fantasies I needed to get me through some very lonely evenings. I look forward to finding out what other fantasies you can fulfill for me.

XOXO- Yvette

 “Yvette!” I laugh uncontrollably, causing my laptop to slip off my lap next to me on the couch. 

I didn’t say she was the brightest bulb. She didn’t even create a fake email address. Her email address alone says her name is Nicole, and she has at least one kid. If you are going to have a virtual affair on your husband and lie about your name, at least attempt to cover it up.

Idiot.

My phone buzzes in my hand, indicating I have an appointment. When open the reminder, I see that it is for have my parents anniversary dinner tonight.

Perfect!

The whole family will all be there and I can have some fun with Nicole. My brother has always been a douche when it comes to my girlfriends so now its time for a little redemption. I will seduce his wife, right in front of him, without him even knowing it. This is going to be fucking awesome.


From:        Mark Cox

To:            NicoleMilf

Subject:    Talented indeed

Yvette,

I am very happy to hear I could assist you in reintroducing you to your body. A very impressive body I’m sure. Perhaps I can be of some added assistance tonight when you are all alone in that big bed of yours trying to fall asleep.

Imagine a tall, dark, handsome stranger wearing a pale blue button up shirt knocks at your front door. When you open the door he forces himself in only to find you have company already inside. The handsome stranger, wants to take you right there  in front of everyone and embarrass you for deterring his plans. But instead, he kisses both of your cheeks and whispers dirty promises in your ear before handing you the bottle of white wine he planned on licking off your naked body. Not wanting to be rude, you invite the stranger in and sit him across from you at the dinning table, explaining to the guests that he is a colleague of yours.

Staring into his bright green eyes as they ravage you in front of all your guests, you continue normal conversation knowing that, at any moment, he could touch your naked flesh and send shivers down your spine. He notices you are on edge and visually traces a small bead of sweat as it falls down your hairline and disappears when you dab it with your cloth napkin. He smirks at you from across the table. You gulp down the last bit of wine in your glass hoping that the alcohol will make you brave.

As dinner commences, the handsome stranger helps you clear the dishes off the table. An act of chivalry to any unsuspected soul, but the two of you know better. This is his chance to get you alone. As you approach the kitchen, you can feel the tingle in the air and with one glance, you know that the handsome stranger in front of you wants to bend you over the counter as much as you want him to. Placing the dishes quietly in the sink, you grab the strangers hand and lead him out to the patio where the crisp autumn air chills your overly heated skin.

You lead the handsome stranger to a dark corner of the patio. The dark corner is privately blocked thanks to overgrown roses sprawling across the trellis. The handsome stranger, not being able to control his urges any longer, pushes his hands under your dress and tears your panties from your body. While your mind processes what is happening the fear of being caught by the guests in the house races through your mind. Before you can speak a word, the handsome stranger plunges his tongue into your mouth and silences your moans as his hands find your warm core.

Keeping two fingers firmly in place, the handsome stranger pulls his throbbing cock from his pants with his free hand, then thrusts himself into you without hesitation as the slick fingers he replaced are being forced into your mouth. The feeling of your warm, wet pussy against the handsome strangers dick as he pounds into you against the house, topped with the incredible site of you sucking your juices from his fingers, is enough to make him want to cum then and there. But he wants to prolong this forbidden act. The more excited he gets, the harder it becomes to control his urge to groan loudly while you claw at his neck and back, needing to get closer. The stranger pistons into you as your body stiffens when you cum hard and fast  around him. You bite into his shoulder as you shudder against the brick wall and quietly grunt through your gratification.

Releasing your legs from around his waist, the handsome stranger twists you around to face away from him so he can get as deep as possible. The only thing you have to hold onto is the holes in the trellis as he yanks at your hips unceremoniously. Your fingers lace into the holes while the handsome stranger slides his cock through your soaking wet flesh until he is satisfied he is as deep as he is going to get. Holding one hand firmly on your waist and another over your mouth, the strangers relentlessly thumps against your skin in such a way his balls are smacking against your overly swollen clit. The cool night air and the barely there touch against the sensitive spot make you want to scream, but you won't in fear that your guests will find us. Suddenly the back door opens, and an older gentleman steps out to enjoy an evening cigar.

What will you do now, Yvette? Stop? I don't think so.

In fear of getting caught, you attempt to pull away from the stranger, but he will not allow you to do so. The handsome stranger releases your mouth, because you both know that if you make too much noise you will be found in a very compromising position. And getting caught is the last thing either of you want. The stranger slowly slides in and out of you, feeling the build of another orgasm clenching his shaft. If you were any closer to the older gentleman he would hear your breathing quickly picking up in shallow pants. Not willing to let you go until he has properly released himself, the handsome stranger glides himself in and out at a slow pace, in and out, in and out. The tightening of his balls assures him he is close.

Ut oh, Yvette. The door opens again and out pops an elderly woman to scold the gentleman for partaking in his unhealthy vice. With a snarl, the gentleman puts out his cigar and retreats back to the house with the woman in tow. A slight squeak emanates from your mouth when the door closes. All alone again. The handsome stranger picks up he relentless pace, fast and hard, until you both cum in perfect harmony and fall into a nearby lounge chair, still attached to each other.

I hope this fantasy will satisfy any cravings you may have this evening.

See you tonight Nicole. Tell my mother I'll bring the wine.

Your favorite brother in law,

Dustin
AKA Marc Cox

Death to Pop Culture

This skit is meant to be my own comical take on pop culture. If you are easily offended, this is NOT for you. I hope you enjoy it.

Once upon a time there were 7 celebrities, locked in a Jersey mall.

Enter: Kim Kardashian, Chris Jenner, Gabrial Iglesias, Lisa Lampanelli, Jimmy Big Balls (Lisa’s Husband), Howard Stern, Greg T (from Z100 morning show).

One by one, the pseudo celebrities file out of the stores of a once popular Jersey mall that is set to close its doors for the final time tonight. They get to the main entrance to find they have all been locked inside. Although they pull and tug at the doors, they won’t budge.

Lisa: Stop yankin’ at the door Jimmy. The first ten times should have indicated it was locked.

Jimmy: Yes, Lisa.

Kim: Oh my god. Who would do this?

As Kim begins to cry and pace, Lisa and Chris pull out their cell phones to call for help. They walk up and down the corridor only to find that the cell service has been blocked. Or jammed?

Gabriel: Who would lock up a mall without checking to see if there are people in it first?

Greg: Right! Who does that? I miss Elvis.

Howard: Everyone just chill out and sit down. We can’t all be missing long, without someone noticing.

Chris: I am going to sue. Once I get out of here, I am going to call TMZ and E-news and drop anonymous hints of our location so they can capture what these people have done to us.

Lisa: Calm down, Jenner, you’ll blow a lip injection. You’ll get your movie of the week. Let’s just focus on getting out of this hellhole first. JIMMY!

Jimmy: Yes, Lisa.

Lisa: You, fatty, and the bigheaded kid in the corner, look around for a way out of this joint.

Jimmy: Yes Lisa.

Chris: Who put you in charge?

Lisa: I’m sorry, do you want to take the reins. I just figured you would want to focus on how this experience will traumatize princess over there into a mental break that you can exploit.

Chris: Oh, well…yes. Thank you.

Lisa rolls her eyes at Chris and watches as her husband, Gabriel, and Greg go off to find a way out. Howard takes a seat on a leather sofa nearby and stares at the ceiling above, dreaming of naked Playboy bunnies. As he closes his eyes, he tries to make the best of it by finding his happy place.

Somewhere in the mall, Greg, Jimmy, and Gabriel search door after door, only to find them all locked and chained from the outside. Someone has taken a lot of time to lock this place up tighter than Ben Stein’s ass.

But who? Who would hate all these people so much that they would do this?

Greg: Damn, this one is locked, too. There’s no way out guys. What the hell do we do now?

Gabriel: We double back to the food court.

Jimmy: Why? Did you see something there?

Gabriel: Yeah! A Panda Express, a Chipotle, and a Dunkin Donuts.

Greg: How can you think of food at a time like this? We are locked in here and have no idea when we are getting out. I miss Elvis.

Gabriel: (he pouts) I have low blood sugar. If I don’t eat every few minutes, I get cranky.

Jimmy: We’ve been gone too long. Lisa will be worried. When she worries, she hits.

Gabriel: That woman sure has you running scared. Grow a set of balls and man up.

Jimmy: (he says sheepishly) I have a set of balls. She just keeps them in her purse.

Back at the main entrance, Kim is ugly crying in the corner. Howard is taking a nap. Chris is looking around for a landline to call the local media. Lisa is impatiently waiting for, as she states it, the retards of this group, to get back from their mission. When she spots them down the hall, Jimmy walks toward her with his hands in his pockets. Gabriel walks a step behind, shaking and sweating while babbling something about donuts.

Lisa: ‘Bout fucking time. I am to assume you geniuses didn’t find a way out.

Jimmy: No, Lisa.

Greg: I miss Elvis.

Kim: OOOWWW! What are you doing? Why are you biting my ass?

Gabriel: Your ass looks like a donut; all round and fluffy. I just wanted a nibble. I bet if we crack you open you’re chock full of chocolate cream.

(bah dum bum)

Kim: Awwww, you’re sweet. Carlos Mencia, right? So super cute.

Gabriel: Yeah and you’re the pretty sister, right? Kourtney?

Kim: Huhhh! MOM! This, this, person called me Kourtney!

Chris: Don’t worry honey, when we get out of here I will have him pay you both royalties for speaking your names out loud. We can even stop by BET so you can have a little down time after this mess.

Kim: Oh, yay! New baby daddy day!

Lisa: If you bitches are done, can we please figure out how to get out of here?

Gabriel: I don’t feel so good.

Lisa: Jesus! Hey, bigheaded kid. What’s your name?

Greg: Greg.

Lisa: Yeah, I don’t like that. Anyway, go find tons of fun over here some food before he melts away to a normal size human. Take Jimmy with ya’.

Greg: Fine. Let’s go.

Greg and Jimmy rummage through vending machines and the food court for whatever is left after all the owners closed up shop for good. They find some random shopping bags and fill them with as many supplies as they can find.

Meanwhile, Howard, who appears to be napping, has another plan. A plan he is not willing to let the others in on just yet.

After finding a metal pole near the deserted bank around the corner from the lobby Lisa beats on the glass with no luck. The glass is so thick it won’t even crack.

Gabriel, who is watching, now babbling incoherently, suddenly sits up straight as Jimmy and Greg approach.

Gabriel: I smell Twinkies!

Gabriel runs and wrestles Greg to the ground in search of the creamy, cakey goodness. Jimmy walks over to Lisa and helps her try to smash the glass. He makes no more headway than she had.

Kim: Help! Look there are people out there.

Chris: She’s right. It looks like…like the whorehouse just let out. But help is help.

Howard: And that would be my contribution to this little cluster fuck. You see while you idiots were running around like fools, I used my power of boob telepathy to summon every skank in a five mile radius. Since we are in Jersey, it was like hitting the bimbo lottery. Those skanks are going to get our asses out of here.

Lisa: Howard, I have never wanted to kiss a Jew as much as I want to kiss you, right this second.

Howard: No thanks. I have seen where your mouth has been.

The buxom beauties sprint toward the door and Howard gives them their instructions to go get help. After many failed attempts and blank stares, Lisa takes out a pen to write instructions for them on one of the paper bags. Slipping it under the door to the brunette who appears to have the most brains in the bunch, she says a silent prayer that this biotch will grab a brain cell and work it.

Lisa: Go find an adult sweetheart and give them that note. They will come and help us. Go on. Scurry off.

Howard rolls his eyes at Lisa’s stupidity and uses his own approach.

Howard: Find man. Give letter. Come back.

The gaggle of groupies dart off in the direct they came from and everyone takes a sigh of relief. It isn’t the best plan; to leave their fate up to Howard’s bimbos, but it is the only option.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a dark cloud appears. Thunder bolts crack and lightening flashes. A lone black Escalade with tinted windows appears. Help. Help is here and the celebrities are all finally going to get out of this place.

Just when the group thought this day couldn’t get any worse, Bruce Jenner, Charlie Sheen-Estevez, and a man in an expensive black suit climbs out of the car. The group sighs with relief, but all think to themselves that it is a strange combination of people to come looking for them.

Chris: Bruce! Oh, thank god. Help us get out of here.

Bruce: I don’t think so, darling. Mr. Estevez and I are not here to help you. We are here to burn this place to the ground with you in it.

ALL: WHAT!

Charlie: You see, Lisa and Howard, you think you’re so funny with your jokes about me. You have both single handidly hurt my feelings, and for that, you must die.

Bruce: Chris. Kim. You are mean, nasty, rude, self-centered bitches who the world could do without. I ran it past Kanye, and he agrees that with you out of the picture he can make millions off of his sob story; how he lost his baby mama.

Greg: Why the rest of us? What did we do to you?

Man in suit: I am glad you asked, Gregory. I am an executive at Hostess. When Gabriel and Lisa went on a diet and cut out sweets, they single handily pushed us into bankruptcy. The nation is pissed. If it weren’t for Kirstie Alley falling off the wagon again, we would all be out of jobs. As for you, Greg, we decided to give something back to the people of America and just do you in.

Jimmy: Why me?

Charlie: Jimmy, you are the only one we are saving. We feel that you have been tortured enough having to sleep with that woman, so if you head out to the other side of the mall you will find those bimbos Howard sent away waiting for you with open legs. I mean arms.

Chris: You’ll never get away with this.

Bruce: You see, we will. The world will not miss a single one of you. In fact, I am told a tinker tape parade is in order and maybe an accommodation, from the President himself, for liberating the world of celebrity terrorists.

With no more words spoken, Charlie strikes a match and watches the building burn to the ground. Never again will the world hear the ramblings of Fluffy the Comedian, The Queen of Mean, the King of Raunch, the make believe Celebrity Princess, her mother the pimp, or The Round Headed Frat boy.

Written by S.L. Gonzalez

Arrested on Valentine's Day

Sharon sat at the bar of her favorite restaurant waiting for her husband Bob to arrive. He had sent her a surprise text message earlier today saying they had a reservation for 7 pm and she should meet him there. But here it is, 7:45, and still no Bob. The maître d’ gave her table away fifteen minutes ago. Not that Sharon could blame him; after all, it is Valentines Day, one of the busiest nights of the year. Gulping down the last of her Shiraz, Sharon pulls her phone off the bar and calls her husband one last time. The call goes to voicemail after four rings and hearing the sound of his voice just pisses her off even more.

“Bob, this is the last message I am going to leave you. I am sitting here like a complete fool, waiting on you. Again, your work wins, and I am left all alone. Whatever you are doing that is more important than spending time with me, you can keep doing it. Don’t come home. I swear to god, I am so angry right now, it would not be in your best interest to come home tonight.” Sharon hangs up the phone and slaps a $50 bill on the bar.

Her angry steps echo down the corridor until she is face to face with the coat check girl; shoving a ticket in her face. The poor girl, who is probably no older than nineteen, is terrified of the woman before her. She retrieves Sharon’s coat quickly and waives her along when she tries to pay. Sharon thanks the girl and exits the crowded restaurant without putting her coat on. The frigid February weather is no match for the heat radiating off of her.

Bob walks into his office and plugs in his dead phone into the charging station on his desk. He uses his desk phone to call his wife, to let her know that he is going to be late. He knows that at ten minutes to eight, their table would surely be gone, but he wants to make it up to her somehow. He has been working on a major project lately and time seems to slip away from him over and over again over the past few weeks. Sharon has voiced her displeasure and has become increasingly annoyed with eating dinner alone and hardly ever seeing her husband. After two rings, he is sent to voicemail. That’s not a good sign, Bob thinks to himself. He knows that a missed call take at least four rings, so she must be deliberately avoiding his calls.

“Shit.”

Bob turns his cell phone on but leaves it on the charger. He then listens to the voicemail that Sharon left a few minutes earlier and curses at the ceiling in frustration. He fucked up, again.

How that hell was he going to fix this?

Could he fix this?

And where the hell was he supposed to sleep? These were the thoughts running through Bob’s head as he tried to come up with a plan.

Noting the time and location of the restaurant, Bob had an idea. He picks up his desk phone and calls friend of his. He goes over his plan, and having been there a time or two himself, his friend was happy to help a fellow fuck up, get out of the dog house. This had to work. If Bob was going to make it up to Sharon, his impromptu plan would have to work.

Sharon was a mile down the road when the tell tale sign of police lights illuminates her interior. She notes the speed and realizes that she is in fact ten miles over the limit, but on this major road people are hardly pulled over for it. Sharon rolls her eyes and gently pulls off to the side of the road. Just as she removes her seatbelt and reaches over to the glove box, she hears the harsh sound of the patrol cars PA system blaring around her.

“Driver! Put your hands on the wheel and don’t move.”

Sharon sits up straight and places her hands on the wheel. Through the side mirror she watches an officer approach the drivers side door and pop open the car door. His hand set firmly on his gun holster as he did so.

“Out of the car, ma’am.” The police officer demands.

Sharon immediately complies, without hesitation. Her nerves are on edge and she is freighted by the officer’s abrasive tone. He grabs Sharon by the upper arm and walks her to the patrol car. The headlights are blinding her as she approaches. From the silhouette she knows there is another person in he car but she can’t make out anything other than a dark shadow from where she is.

“Hands on the hood,” the officer insists.

“Could you tell me what I did? I know I was-“

“Shut up!” the officer yells. “You don’t get to ask the questions here. We have been looking for you for a long time.”

Sharon begins to stand up, not knowing what he means by that statement, but the officer holds his arm over her back.

“Stop resisting, ma’am”

“But I think there is a mistake here. Who do you think I am?”

“Oh we know who you are. You may have gotten away from us once, but we won’t let you escape again. In fact…” The officer’s voice trails off as he places a blindfold over her eyes. When the blindfold is in place, Sharon hears a car door pop open and the crunching of gravel alerts her that the officer who was inside the car, is close.

“Please. Call my husband. He will tell you-“

“I said shut up,” the officer scolds again. “Not another word or we will gag you as well. Open your legs so we can pat your down.”

Sharon thought this was a very odd practice but she didn’t dare argue again. She wanted to get this over with, without pissing them off further. She knew once Bob found out what was happening, he would rip these men a new ass for treating his wife with such disrespect. This is clearly a case of mistaken identity, and whoever they think she was, this was going to be bad.

Sharon can hear, officer one, walking away by the sound of his boots against the gravel, trailing off. She hears the patrol car door close and the sound of tires crunching gravel, then asphalt. Panic starts to bubble up in her chest as she feels, officer two’s, hands on her body. She knew protocol was to call a female officer but she didn’t dare speak on it. She is alone with this man and fearful that he is just as mean as his partner. This officer hasn’t yet spoken to her and she doesn’t want to rock the boat, so Sharon remains stoic while the officer pats her shoulders, back, stomach, and inner thighs, just above the knee.

The officer gently pulls Sharon’s hands behind her back and clicks on he cuffs, one at a time. The officer gently pulls on her upper arm and guides her to the backseat of her car. As he slides her inside, he places his hand on her head so she doesn’t hit it on the doorframe. Even though Sharon can’t see him, there is something familiar and safe about the way he touches her.

As she sits in the back of the car, Sharon tries to plead her case to the unknown officer. She rambles off how this is all a mistake and she wants to call her husband, but the officer doesn’t respond. When the car stops, the officer opens the door and escorts Sharon into a newly renovated police station. Sharon can smell the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. She lets the police officer navigate her along as her heals click on the tile floor. She hears keys jingling and locked doors open and close. She is sure she is headed to a holding cell but just before she can protest, the officer removes her cuffs. Sharon stills for a moment and waits for further instructions, but none come; and before she can remove the blindfold to see the man, he is out the door.

Sharon carefully removes the blindfold off her head and places it on the metal table in the middle of the room. She looks around and realizes she is in an interrogation room; that much she can tell. The room is painted grey and sparsely decorated with photos you would find in any office building. There is hardly any furniture other than a metal table and 4 metal chairs. Under the one way mirror, there is a small table with nothing more than a coffee pot and a small fridge underneath. Sharon opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water before leaning against the metal table. Her lips wrap around the bottle and she sips on the cold liquid, needing something to quench her thirst as she ponders her next move. Sharon’s previous anger for her husband has multiplied ten fold. If he had just come to the restaurant like he was supposed to, this wouldn’t be happening. Just as she replaces the bottle cap something dawns on her.

Bob stood behind the glass and watched his wife with admiration. She defiantly took her time getting ready tonight. Her dark brown hair is done in a swept updo and her makeup is flawless; from her smoky black eyes to her ruby red lips. His eyes are drawn down to her full breasts that are no doubt exaggerated by her pushup bra. Her dark blue wrap dress hangs beautifully over her curvy frame and falls just above the knee. As she leans against the table, the slit in the front of her dress reveals the lacy tops of her black stockings. With her feet planted in those silver shoes he likes, her long legs seem to go on forever.

Sharon, simply standing there, makes Bob’s dick harden. She always has had this effect on him. Even after fifteen years of marriage, his wife was still the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. Bob sat in the chair, behind the glass, and pressed a few buttons to the intercom system. The city had spared no expense when they were building the new police headquarters. Bob being the developer on the project had made sure every penny was stretched to the max in order to get nothing but the best technology money could buy. He figured if this project took him away from his wife so much, she could at least reap the benefits of his hard work. Besides, none of the security cameras were in place and he is the only one with keys to the building, so they are very much alone.

Bob presses a button to mask his voice as he speaks to the beautiful woman on the other side of the glass. He knows he has to make it up to her but he is not sure how far he will be able to take her without shutting her down completely. He’s not even sure she is going to participate in this game. If Bob was being honest with himself, a huge part of him hoped she wouldn’t.

Confident he had the right settings in place, he sat back in the high back chair and spoke. “I’m sorry if the officers were a bit rough with you, ma’am. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. What am I being held for?” Sharon asks, more annoyed than curious.

“It seems you match the description of a wanted bank robber who evaded the police once this month. My men are just being cautious. We don’t have any female officers on duty tonight so I am afraid we may need to improvise. As long as there is no touching and you voluntarily cooperate, we are not breaking protocol. I understand that this may be inconvenient, but this is what has to be done. Otherwise you will be here until the morning when one is available.” Bob explains with more enthusiasm than he was letting on.

Sharon was curious as to how long her husband, on the other side of the glass, would carry on this charade. She figured out by now that this must be the new building Bob was working on. She also made a mental note to remind him not to wear the same cologne she bought him for Christmas the next time he was going to kidnap her.

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with. What do you want me to do?” Sharon’s stomach fluttered with excitement as she waited for further instruction.

Bob cleared his throat and realized for the first time, he had not thought this through very well. At forty years old, Bob was no slacker in the bedroom, but to have verbal control over his headstrong wife, made him giddy with excitement.

“First, we need to do a strip search. Please take off your dress and lay it on the table.”

With nothing more than a nod, Sharon made a show of untying her blue wrap dress and exposing her red lacy underwear and bra set. His wife’s beautiful body was put on display as she untied the inside tie and allowed her dress to slip off her shoulders, onto the floor. Turning to face away from Bob, Sharon bent at the waist and picked up her DKNY dress and placed it on the shiny silver tabletop. Twisting back around, Sharon put her hands on her hips and awaited her next instruction.

“Very nice-I mean, very good, Miss.” Bob stuttered into the microphone. “Now you will have to step closer and remove your bra. I need to make sure you are not concealing anything inside.”

Sharon took a step toward the glass and halted, mid-step. “Are you alone? I am not continuing if you and all your cop buddies are having a bit of fun with me in there.” Sharon knew that Bob would never let that happen, but she thought it was a logical question for a woman in her predicament.

“Of course! It is just me, ma’am. I am in now way trying to take advantage of you,” Bob lies.

“Alright.” Sharon approaches the mirror and watches herself undo her padded red bra. She couldn’t see Bob’s expression on the other side but she was pretty sure that after fifteen years of marriage she could guess that he was sitting in his chair, with legs spread open and his hand on his crotch. He did it often enough when she would dress in front of him. Bob was a bit of a voyeur and she knew it. Sharon liked when Bob watched her. She liked that he appreciated her body and wanted to touch it whenever he could get his hands on her. That was before he took on this project and was working so much.

With no shame or wavering, Sharon pulls off her bra and tosses it on the table behind her. She watches herself in the mirror as her breasts bounce when she spins around. She grips each of them in her hand and lifts them so Bob can get a good look at what he has been missing out on the last few months.

Bob watches his wife in awe as she pulls the pins out of her hair causing it to fall all around her. With two hands, she pulls out her hairclip and pushes her rigid nipples toward the cool glass. As if the glass itself has a sensor to his dick, Bob twitches in his suit pants upon contact.

“As you can see officer, no concealed weapons.”

Bob tries, but he can’t speak. The sexy rasp of Sharon’s voice is turning him on in so many ways. Never before has he seen his wife in this light. Not even when they dated in their 20’s, was she the confident vixen he sees before him, now. Thank god his voice is masked, because if not, she would definitely hear it lose an octave or two when he tries to speak again.

“Um…yes, well, that is just fine. Now, I am going to need you to slide down your panties and bend over so I can make sure there is nothing hidden in there either.” Bob is sure this is where Sharon was going draw the line. He is certain that she would never let another man see her that exposed.

“Whatever you say, officer. You are clearly the one in charge here.” Sharon licked her lips before turning around toward the table. When she is standing directly in front of it she takes a deep breath and prepares herself for what she is about to do. Her previous state of anger is replaced with adrenaline and anticipation. After 15 years of marriage, Bob has seen every part of her exposed, but never like this. Never the show she is putting on now.

Sharon grips both sides of her red lace panties and slides them down her legs. She puts one knee on the table and hoists herself up with her hands so that she is kneeling on the top. Looking over her shoulder into the glass, she watches her naked form reflect back and she has to admit, it’s lovely.

“Officer, if it will speed up the process, why don’t you come in here and take a more through look. I’ll even put my blindfold back on so if any rules are broken, I’ll never be able to tell who was doing the cavity search.”

Sharon bends over and finds the blindfold under her blue dress. She slips it down her forehead and bends over the table. When her ass is fully exposed to the glass wall she spreads her legs wider, then pulls the mask down to cover her eyes. Bob is stunned into silence, not by his wife being as bold as to show off her body with such confidence, but because she is offering up her body to a strange man, as far as she knows. As turned on as Bob is, his anger is getting the better of him. If this is the way she wants to play it, he will teach her a lesson she would soon regret.

“I will be right there to search you more carefully. Stay still and don’t move.”

Bob turns off the microphone and slams open the office door. He fiddles with the keys and pushed open the interrogation room door. With a heaving chest Bob watches Sharon spread wide open on the table. Noticing that the blindfold is still firmly in place, he quietly kicks off his shoes and unzips his suit pants. Long gone were his jacket and tie as he watched his wife strip a short time ago.  He strolls over to the wall and lowers the lights so if Sharon does happen to catch a glimpse, she won’t see him in bright light until he is ready to reveal himself.

Bob approaches the silver table, clad in only his black boxer briefs and unbuttoned dress shirt; handcuffs in hand. He appreciates the heart shaped ass before him and loves seeing Sharon’s lips glistening under the dim lights. With his index and forefinger, Bob opens his wife up so he can see her arousal dripping from within. His mouth fills with saliva, knowing that she tastes like the ripest berry on the bush; sweet and succulent.

Bob grips Sharon’s arm off the table, then slaps the cuff on without being the least bit easy on her. When he grabs her other wrist, her forehead thumps on the table as her body falls forward.

“Oww…could you at least be a little less rough.” She queries. Bob, wanting to teach Sharon a lesson, slaps her ass with his bare hand. “Jesus, I didn’t say you could abuse me. Be easy.”

Bob remains silent as he pulls up the metal chair to the table and sits behind Sharon. He parts her with the middle fingers on both hands and dives face first into her. As soon as her sweetness touches his lips, he growls in appreciation as he eats at her with a feral need. With Sharon’s arms bound with the metal cuffs, she is powerless to stop him, and has no way to move in this position. She has no choice but to enjoy the touch of Bob behind her as he licks and rubs her. His touch is not gentle. It is ferocious, a feeling she never experienced with him before.

As Sharon’s orgasm rips through her at lightening speed, she can do nothing but scream. She has nothing to grip, or bite, or pull on, to ease her pleasurable agony.

Just her screams.

And the more she screams, the more Bob wants to hear her scream.

“Bob! Fuck…Bob….I can’t…ahhhh,” She moans and groans as he laps her up, not wanting to waste a drop. Right before he stands, ready to claim her, he realizes that she has called him by name.

“You know it’s me?” Bob asks as his fingers plunge into Sharon. He can feel her inner walls pulse around his fingers and he yearns for his cock to feel the same thing.

“Yes. I knew since I got in this room. Pleeeease, baby. Fuck me before I go insane.”

Bob wipes the moisture from his face on the cheek of Sharon’s ass. He can feel her drying up on his face and with his hands otherwise occupied, this is the best he can come up with.  Sharon continues to moan and ride his fingers as Bob pushes into her, over and over. He knows she is ready again and he wants inside.

Bob grips her waist and lowers her feet to the floor. With Sharon’s tits pressed up against the cold metal table, her nipples form stiff peaks as her body melds with the unforgiving surface. Bob slips his thumb into her drenched core and drags the slick coating over her puckered opening before sliding his thumb into her as he drives his cock in one, long, harsh stroke.  Sharon gasps and moans at how full she feels with both of her openings invaded by her partner.

Bob stills. “You like that, Sharon? You like when I watch you strip off your clothes. You like putting on a show for me, baby?”

“Yes. Fuck, Bob. Move. Please move. I need you. I need all of you, please.” Sharon cries. She needs to cum so bad she feels like her insides are on fire.

“You want more? I don’t know if you can handle more. Maybe I’ll stop and let you cool down for a while.” Bob teases as he gyrates his hips in a circle, causing Sharon to groan in frustration. “You like that? Do you want me to let you cum now?”

“Bob…I swear…if you don’t pick up…oh, god…the pace, I am going to fucking make you sleep-“ Sharon is cut off by Bob pulling back and slamming into her over and over. With every thrust of his hips, his thumb retreated and vice versa.  With his hand on her back, pushing her into the tabletop, Bob rams into Sharon over and over again until he felt his balls tighten as he releases himself into her. With a scream that could wake the dead, Sharon’s voice echoes around the room as the last of their mutual indulgence is drawn out.

Completely satisfied and utterly spent after a long day and what will probably go in the record book for being the best sex they have ever had, Bob lays over Sharon’s moist naked body and kisses between her shoulder blades.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby. Can I come home tonight?” Bob chuckled against her skin.

“If you bring those handcuffs home with you, you can.”